Most Neurodiverse folks had an "Oh Shit" moment. When you see them, you know them. For instance:

The way that ADHD folks lose time is not what most people mean by losing time. We feel like twenty seconds pass, it's half an hour.

That's not standard. https://twitter.com/Commissar_Benny/status/1340894790729281537

Most people do not feel an intense anxiety in regards to mail, unless they specifically know bad news might be coming.

The standard is "just opening and reading your bank statements when you get them," not creating a dread pile. https://twitter.com/NomeDaBarbarian/status/1340319468598165505

I once heard someone with Dyslexia say that nobody ever explained to him that the words should make sense; That letters correlate to sounds, stay in one place, and form a whole word you just see.

He just assumed everyone else had his problems too, and he was just bad at dealing.

Short answer: Yes.

Long answer:

y y y y y y y e e e e e e e s s s s s s s s s s s s https://twitter.com/acearohanda/status/1340900524275757056

People without my condition have "Chronognosia." The innate awareness of the passage of time.

It might be better or worse, it might be more or less accurate, but the way time passes bears some relationship to the way they understand time passing.

Me?

My Chronagnostic self?

I am aware of time passing because things happen. Because the sun goes down. Because my cat is telling me it's dinner time. Because I hover over the clock.

It's a bit like someone with no sense of temperature - I only learn something is "hot" because I burned myself on it, I didn't know until the pain started that something was wrong.

I've built a lot of systems to try and handle time, because nothing in me does it automatically.

Most people without my condition have functioning "Interoception." The awareness of the signals their body is telling them. Hunger and thirst, or satiation. Energy, or exhaustion.

I don't.

Those signals in me are very, very quiet. I have to focus on them to know what's going on.

I have to think about if I'm hungry, most times, to know that I'm hungry.

Guess what? I also can't tell when I'm full.

Nothing in my body tells me to stop eating. I just... decide.

"That is the amount of food one should eat for dinner."

I'm probably still receiving the "hungry" signal in the first place, because nothing has told my body to stop sending me the hungry signal.

One of many reasons I've struggled with my weight.

Most people without my condition, or a related one, have something in their brain called "Executive Function." An assistant, which automatically sorts everything into the order of importance, and sends the signals from your brain to your body to do things.

I don't.

I have nothing in my head which automatically translates "I need to get up now" into the motion.

I am often unable to do things that I want, need, and am trying to do. Not just big things, like the dishes, or laundry.

Little things, like pulling my eyes away. Like standing.

Until I decide otherwise, everything that I could do or need to do or want to do has equal priority. I'm manually sorting it all, all the time.

Using the bathroom, calling my dad for his birthday, turning off the timer on the microwave that's been beeping for 2min already.

I could go on!

The point I'm making, though, and I promise I've been meaning to this whole time:

Until someone sat me down and told me so in no uncertain terms, I had always assumed that this was just how everyone worked.

I had assumed that everyone dealt with what I did, because I only had their language to describe my experience.

How could I know that what I meant by "losing time," was light years away from what they did?

How could I know that there was a sense I just didn't have?

Instead, I just honestly, deep-in-my-bones believed that I was a piece of shit.

"Why can't you just DO this?" was a question I heard so often that I internalized it. I bludgeoned myself with it, like a weapon,

Without ever once considering that there was actually an answer.

"Why can't you do this?"

Because I'm disabled. That's what the word means. -Can't-.

Not won't. Can't.

Unable.

Disabled.

Through no fault of my own there is shit I just can't do.

Just like everyone else.

And hating myself for it is nonsensical. It's like hating myself for not being tall enough to reach a high shelf.

Footstools exist. I can just... get one. Self-hate need never come into it.

And as soon as I actually buy that, I'll let you know.

It's not there yet. There's decades of abuse to deprogram, much of it from the most well-meaning people in my life.

But I'm working on it. I'm still breathing, which means it's still worthwhile to do.

I hope y'all get there, too.

Cheers. /end

PS: If you've ever felt like you've got "Chronic Piece of Shit Syndrome," then maybe read this thread.

Maybe see how much is familiar.

Maybe think about getting a doctor.

Because lemme tell you: all the wrong people think of themselves like that. https://twitter.com/NomeDaBarbarian/status/1311687107128123393